Scene 1

He gave a strong pull to the latch. He kept the lock and key in his left fist; he gave support to a medium-sized carton box and a bouquet of red lilies with the same hand. He opened the door. The apartment still had the smell of turpentine oil. He gave the switch board wide guess-shots. The white light, the ceiling fan and a blank switch showed quite an obnoxious kind of “same” timing. He muttered the word “flabbergasted” but he smiled. He said under his breath, “It’s too fancy for this situation.”

This was a happy place for him. He often comes to this south Calcutta’s apartment. He once told his brother, “This place is nice man... it’s away from that pretty-yet-pretentious type of so-called amiability.”

He moved towards the empty bedroom. He slid the box towards the projector. It hit the projector stool. He entered the washroom. and opened the tap at its highest speed. Finally after a piffling pause, he splashed cold water on his face. The water drops sparkled on his stubble cheek.

He dabbed his wet hands on his face and touched them on his eyes. He felt to splash but then he thought that the satin shirt wouldn’t look good. He saw some little water drops on his blazer. He carefully tried to buff that with tissue paper; but suddenly threw that quite forcefully in the trash bin.

He moved towards his cabin.

His ears could still hear the last conversation.

“Who are you?! Do you know how a company works? Remember that...we work in reality...we need to know the dynamics of profit and loss.”

He got that remark from his opposite side.

“But...it is the best chance to make some changes. We need to hire deserving candidates. I can’t work only with ‘your’ people.”

He made the quote gesture with his fingers for the word ‘your’. Then he said, “We can’t always stay in rut.”

“Please...don’t make your own rules. Are you in the hiring team? No... right?! We know what’s best. You go... be the social worker of some lane! This will not work here.”

The recruitment manager sneered and said, “Oh yes...you have another world...you don’t need this job. You are a creative person! Go and see if art can give you the right candidate!”

The conference room echoed with unusual giggling. He looked at their boss. The boss looked a little confused. But he also knew that his boss always had a preference for the bigger team. The boss never liked the rebels.

He came back to his cabin. He called his peon and said softly, “Pralay, get me a small carton and a black coffee.”

Pralay came back, kept the carton and coffee on the table and wiped his eyes frequently. He looked at Pralay and moved towards the washroom. He gave the tap the smallest possible speed.

He saw little water drops on his blazer. He did not take out any tissue.

He moved towards his cabin.

He saw Pralay and some other colleagues staring at him from the cabin door. They gave him a bouquet of red lilies. Some said a few words, and some were silent.

He wiped his stubble beard softly. He gave the lilies water shot through his hands. He did that five times. He loved that work. He entered the room and switched on the projector. After sitting down on the floor, he tucked some cushions under his legs and his elbow. Satyajit Ray’s Nayak appeared on the empty wall. He smiled for some moments and then placed his laptop on his folded knees. He typed, “Scene 1”.

He typed a few more words, “The pillars smelled the fumes...”

The room echoed, “I will go to the top...the top...”